


Things Change

by lupisashes



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, SouMako Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupisashes/pseuds/lupisashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for SouMako Week on tumblr. </p>
<p>There are times when Makoto's been terrified of Sousuke Yamazaki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Change

There are times when Makoto's been terrified of Sousuke Yamazaki.

He's big, shoulders broader than Makoto's own, taller, stronger. His entire presence is intimidating from his teal eyes, to his scowl, to the way he talked, deep and resonating like a threatening storm thundering and shaking the windows. His tone could be so frigid, his words condescending. Makoto used to think of him as cold. The on-coming glacier one would need to steer around, lest they end up sunk.

But he'd learnt that wasn't the case. Sousuke Yamazaki was intimidating, of course, but he had a heart. He cared. He cared  _immensely_. So much so, Makoto had found himself in Tokyo somehow inviting a quiet, moody not-quite-friend over to his apartment to share Haru's home cooked meals, packaged and delivered every Friday night.

Makoto could only admire him for it. Admire him for moving on with his own plans as long as he had, despite the close friendship he and Rin shared. They'd talked regularly (Makoto had made sure of that, even when hisi two hot-headed friends had argued), but it wasn't the same, he knew. The thought of leaving Haru behind in Iwatobi had made every decision he'd had to make for his future more than a little difficult. It had been made even more so when he'd realised that if he didn't move on, he'd probably be the one left behind. That was part of the reason why he'd raced his best friend, after all. To see where he stood, and to see if he could make it. Knowing he couldn't - Makoto has never had much of a competitive streak slicing through him. It had made the idea of the distance more bearable. 

But competitive streak or not, Makoto is determined when he sets out to do something. It had been terrifying, starting a friendship with Sousuke. Any warmth he'd known the man to show had been wiped out during those few months after they'd moved to Tokyo. Rin had kept him posted on Sousuke for the first few weeks, before he'd started to ask Makoto to look out for him once he'd realised Sousuke wasn't faring the best. He'd  _tried_ , at least. He'd called and texted and had been sure that they both ate well-balanced meals despite their shared love for meat. 

Sousuke had ended up in the same university as Makoto. Business, officially, though he hadn't seemed so keen on it, the few times Makoto had managed to help him open up about it. Eventually, the brunette had started earning conversation without prompting it, had earned soft laughs shared over coffee as they both completed any assignments they'd fought to keep from over-running their desks, taking turns spending the time at each other's places. They'd eventually started talking about their best friends, which had seemed to be the final flood gate before Makoto felt he could confidently call Sousuke his friend and himself a friend of Sousuke's, the bubbling goop in his gut having turned into the pleasant gurgling of a river. They shared what news they had about Rin and Haru's swimming careers. The races swum, medals earned, frowns shared and then laughed over. 

Still, there had been set backs. Rin hadn't been exaggerating when he'd commented on how often Sousuke and he would argue. It had been around Christmas when Makoto had once again felt his blood turn cold and his palms start to sweat with nerves and fear, his eyes wide as he spluttered, hands up in front of him and a hissing Sousuke holding onto his wrists so tight he swore he was getting pins and needles in his fingers.

“Don't defend him, Makoto!  _He_ was the one who made the decision to leave. He doesn't get to say shit like that!” His hands had left bruises where he'd clasped onto Makoto's shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscles and skin as he held him still, upright, “He's a bit lonely by himself, wants us to visit? What was the point?! We have perfectly good universities right here in Japan. Why the hell did he need to go to  _Australia_?!”

Sousuke is powerful. Arms corded with muscles, shoulders still as broad and strong as they'd ever been, and Makoto hadn't known what to do within the other man's grasp. He'd never been manhandled  _like that_  before. Hadn't known what to do, let alone what to say.

“Sousuke, please, calm down. Rin - he just -”

Sousuke's shoulder had healed, though he'd been warned about stressing it too much, and he'd seemed content to visit the gym as regularly as he could. Makoto would join him sometimes, had grown to admire the dedication Sousuke showed. He'd grown fond of the way he teased Makoto, the way he'd correct Makoto's stance or the way he'd sometimes push him around. It was a novelty, after all. Makoto had been bigger than the majority of his friends back in Iwatobi, jostling and wrestling would have ended in, as Nagisa had put it, them being “squashed”.

The dark haired man, however, seemed to enjoy their tussles. But Makoto had forgotten the real strength Sousuke's muscles held. Had called him stupid when he'd really seen it, seen the way it had left Sousuke's knuckles swollen, bruised and broken as he'd smashed it with little regard to his own health straight into Makoto's fridge. Makoto doesn't have it anymore, but the dent he'd been left with that night had served as a reminder to never forget that Sousuke could hurt so deeply.

“Why does he still effect me this way, Makoto?”

But he wouldn't. With the fridge worse for wear, and his knuckles bloodied, Sousuke's screaming had turned into the quietest, pitiable sobs Makoto had ever heard. But it was a relief for the brunette, almost. He could deal with tears.

One long, long hug later and Makoto could say he was scared of Sousuke for an entirely different reason.

He was  _fond_  of Sousuke, he'd realised that night. He couldn't stand to see the other man in pain. Couldn't bear it when the scowl was something other than the way Sousuke's face naturally fell.

He'd never had these sorts of feelings for Haru. Nagisa had thought so, Rin too, but they hadn't been quite so  _intense_. No, his feelings for Haru were like that of a close, close relative. Haru was like a brother, a twin, almost. He was dependable in his familiarity and comforting because of it, even if they had different opinions on Sousuke Yamazaki. Haru managed to calm whatever storm might growl and tremble inside Makoto's gut and level it, returning it to the tranquil waters of an inland sea.

Sousuke, however, ignited feelings so warm and encompassing all Makoto found himself able to do when assaulted by them was hold on tight and hope for the best. He'd never had to defend himself against the undeniable love he felt for the man, be it when he slept over at Makoto's apartment and somehow managed to fall asleep even with the lights on, or the way he smiled at Makoto, so tender it hurt. Makoto had never really been fussed over like Sousuke manages either. Haru would appear when needed, words, soup and mackeral in hand, but it was Sousuke that stayed. It was Sousuke that slept with his sore shoulder acting as a pillow for Makoto's lead-lined head. It was him that did Makoto's washing, changing the sheets and mopping at Makoto's forehead when his fever wouldn't break.

It was also Sousuke that had rung the doctor, his voice steady and took notes on medication, care and general ways Makoto could improve his health during this extremely stressful leading-to-exam time. He was an idiot, pushing himself as much as he had. And Sousuke had told him so, too, when he was lucid enough to understand.

“You scared me, Mako.” He'd said, fingers brushing Makoto's long fringe out of his face, teal eyes trained on Makoto as though he were the only thing he could see, “You need to start looking after yourself.”

“Sorry,” He'd croaked, throat raw, eyes sore, stinging, feeling his heart being squeezed by those words, “I – I'll. I'm sorry.”

“Shhh. Go to sleep. Your fever's only just broken.”

It had been Sousuke's standing – the creak of the chair, the heat of his hand leaving Makoto feeling as icy as he'd once thought Sousuke was, his heart stopping when as he'd heard Sousuke's steps heading towards Makoto's bedroom door – that had been the next thing that terrified him about Sousuke.

“Wait!” He'd flung himself up, a puppet yanked upright by tight strings, hand extended as he'd dizzily attempted to focus on the tall figure standing halfway between him and the door, “Wait, stay! Please! Just sleep beside me for one more night. Don't go! Please, Sousuke, I can't – I - _I'm going to throw up_ -!”

It hadn't been his most graceful of moments; nearly falling out of bed as he'd dived for the little bin Sousuke had provided and placed in front of Makoto's bedside table. He'd nearly landed head first inside of it, had it not been for the large hands and strong arms that had caught him around the waist and torso and had only tightened their hold as Makoto had wetly wretched into the bin.

He'd stayed though. Had settled Makoto into bed again, provided water, a new bucket, tissues, tucked him in and had even kissed his forehead before he'd uttered another word.

Makoto had been feeling too ill to regret or fret or let the thought of Sousuke's reaction to his neediness scare himself that night, and had woken the next morning feeling the opposite of frightened. Having Sousuke's strong hands clasping at him – his hands, his waist, his chest – had been so pleasant he'd never wanted to remove himself from the bed. Sousuke was like a furnace behind him, still is, but having him there, pressed along Makoto's backside...

Makoto wished his bladder didn't exist. He'd fidgeted. He'd idly played with long fingers, cataloguing the minute scratches scarred over his hands, had lightly, after listening to Sousuke breathe behind him for what seemed like an eternity, lifted them to his chapped lips so he could kiss them gently.

He'd almost had heart failure when Sousuke's grip had tightened over his own fingers, had almost peed himself with panic when the dark haired man had leant forward, breath so hot against his ear he feared it would melt and slide straight off, “Go do what you need to. I won't be going anywhere.”

The relief Makoto had been overwhelming. Almost like a typhoon in it's complexity. His happiness was immense, swallowing him, drowning him. He'd stumbled out of bed, had wobbled out of the room, done his business.

His return had been as nerve-wracking as ever (perhaps he'd dreamt it, perhaps it was the medication), but one peek around his bedroom door had allowed his fears of Sousuke's leaving to flee utterly.

That had been over a year ago.

“We've talked about this before.”

Makoto can't help the smile tugging at his lips at the soft, muffled words. Can't help but lean against the doorway, silent and his eyes so, so fond, as he watches his boyfriend struggle with his negotiations.

“You can't sleep there, that's my side.”

A soft, content “meow” sounds from somewhere in front of Sousuke. He's laid out on Makoto's side of the bed, belly pressed against the covers, his head in his pillow and his arms wrapped under and around it. He's shirtless (a normal occurrence Makoto's extremely appreciative of), his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, almost ready to slip off completely as they show off the dimples Makoto so loves to nip and lick at.

“Makoto'll be back soon. He'll want his side back.”

Again, Jingles mewls quietly, obviously ignoring Sousuke's demands. The dark haired man shifts slowly, rolling onto his side so he can lift a hand to poke and prod at Makoto's utterly spoilt feline. Makoto can just picture Sousuke's face, annoyed but somehow taken with the tiny, honey-brown splodged cat Makoto had adopted a few months prior. He can picture the annoyed squint and fluffing up Jingles is doing in response, the way her tiny feet will tuck under her and she'd bury her head in the blankets and effectively ignores the giant bully attempting to kick her off her bed. 

He takes a long moment to admire the way Sousuke's back and shoulder muscles move beneath his skin, enjoys the golden glow Makoto's desk lamp creates on it. He has the sudden urge to run his hands over them, to trace, define and document each and every ligament and muscle running along that back...

Makoto's hands drop from the towel he leaves to fall and drape itself over his shoulders as he straightens himself, stepping quietly over to the silently bickering pair he shares a small, homely apartment with. Sousuke has been inching himself forward slowly, his poking coming to an abrupt halt as Makoto plants his knee behind him and the bed dips back, making Sousuke gasp and glance up at him, only a little surprised.

His own large hand cups Sousuke's nearly bare hip, easily sliding down to his warm waist. The brunette's quick to bestow the lightest of kisses against Sousuke's neck, behind his ear, smiling serenely all the while.

“What are you two arguing about now?” Makoto whispers into his lover's ear.

“She's hogging the bed again.” Sousuke replies, just as quiet.

Makoto laughs breathlessly, staring down, his emerald eyes shining with warmth and the deep, deep love he has for the man beside him and his little one snoring quietly in front of them, “I suppose we're going to have to share. She's incorrigible.”

They squeeze themselves into Makoto's half of the bed with relative ease. Perhaps from practice, perhaps because they don't mind being pressed so tightly together the air between them has fled completely, their long legs tangle together, arms under and over one another. Makoto sighs when Sousuke kisses him, tilts his head up so the other man can deepen it, lets himself be rolled over and pressed flat against the bed. It makes him feel warm, safe, though he breaks away with a giggle as Sousuke's fingers find themselves tracing up his spine, under his shirt. Makoto retaliates by slipping a few of his fingers under the waistband of Sousuke's sweats, once again cupping his hip.

“Goodnight.” He says, settling himself into the pillows, once again turning onto his side as Sousuke settles himself as well.

Sousuke presses another, quick kiss to his lips, “'Night.”

It's with his forehead against his own, sharing Makoto's pillow and the blanket bunched around them that Makoto acknowledges that this is his Safe Place. He is at his most comfortable when Sousuke's arms are around him, when he can feel his warm breath puffing against his skin. Even if he still scares him sometimes, with his temper, with his intensity, with how much he feels, Makoto knows Sousuke won't intentionally hurt him, won't hurt him at all, really.

Makoto knows Sousuke cares about him deeply. Which also scares him; Makoto doesn't wish to hurt Sousuke either and he knows he's more than capable. They're both only human. 

But here, right now, they needn't worry. They're safe. 

From everything but tiny cat claws. 

**Author's Note:**

> HAHAHA WHY
> 
> Has been edited since it was posted on tumblr. 
> 
> BTW, still taking prompts over on [my blog](http://lupisashes.tumblr.com/). Feel free to drop one in my ask box~


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